


Only Slightly Impaled

by Dorano1



Category: The Brotherband Chronicles - John Flanagan
Genre: M/M, and just as gay as ever, in Iberion, takes place shortly before book 6/Ghostfaces, they're baaaack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 19:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorano1/pseuds/Dorano1
Summary: There are Rules in Skandian society about romance, and none of them apply to this situation beyond "don't".





	Only Slightly Impaled

Hal was good at a lot of things. Sailing, personnel management (also known as herding cats), carpentry, and doing the supposedly impossible were at the top of the list. One thing he was _not_ good at, however - in fact, one might go so far as to say he was _bad_ at it - was emotions.

Skandians, as a rule, weren't terribly articulate with their feelings. A punch in the face constituted a hello, and bruised ribs usually meant celebration. Courting was often accomplished by the interested parties whaling at each other with axes, swords, and the occasional mace, then excusing the subsequent physical contact as 'patching each other up'. It was a system, and it worked - for the most part, at least.

For instance, while there were social rules on how to deal with the object of one's affections was injured by other parties (all of them involving vengeance and blood debts and the like), nobody had ever thought about what should be done if said object of affections was _a member of your crew._

Admittedly, there was a good reason for this - namely, that crewmates weren't supposed to be…involved. It created conflicts in the chain of command and potentially led to abuse of power if one of the involved happened to be captain or first mate.

All of this only served to confuse the young captain further, and the current situation was _really not helping._

"Are you _sure_ you're all right?"

Stig looked up, the expression on his face an odd mix of exasperation, annoyance, and fondness. "About as sure as the last five times you asked me."

Hal winced. "Right, right, sorry," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "But -"

Stig threw up his hands in despair (and winced, because his only-slightly-impaled shoulder had protested the treatment). "Hal! I am _fine_. Stop worrying."

Hal's sharp helmsman's eyes were not so easily fooled. They caught the wince and narrowed, pulling the rest of his face into a frown. "Stig…"

"So it twinges a bit," Stig grumbled. "I was _stabbed,_ Hal, it's going to twinge no matter what I do."

Hal resisted the urge to throw his own hands up in despair. He settled for muttering a prayer for patience at the sky (hopefully the gods were listening today) and crossing his arms. "That," he said precisely, "is exactly my point. You were stabbed. Do you see why that might be cause for concern?"

"But I'm fine," Stig protested, _still not getting it._

"I - yes, all right, I'll concede that." Hal bit his lip. "But the point is that you might not have been."

Stig rocked back on his heels at those words, considering Hal with a restraint that was _absolutely unfair,_ considering how many interesting shapes Hal's insides were tying themselves in. The silence stretched on and Hal ducked his head, unable to meet Stig's eyes.

"This isn't just about the injury, is it?" Stig said finally, voice soft.

"Thank Friha, we have a breakthrough," Hal said bitterly. "And it only took you three _years_ -"

"Three years?" Stig's voice sharpened, and Hal swore.

Colorfully.

Creatively.

_Silently._

"Can we pretend I never said that?" he pleaded.

Stig didn't seem to hear him. "By all the gods, I must be blind. Three…three _years?_ " He looked at Hal accusingly. "And I thought you'd been torturing me for the last six months!"

Hal cringed away from Stig's glare, face burning - _I knew it, I knew I shouldn't have said anything,_ _ **crewmates aren't supposed to fall in love**_ \- and almost missed the words that came with it. "I…what?"

"You didn't - of course you didn't notice," Stig grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed. "So, apparently, we're both hopeless."

"Yeah." The word was at least half relieved laughter. "I was half expecting you'd run me off."

Stig snorted. "Hardly. We still need you to get back to Hallasholm."

Hal laughed - a real laugh this time - and grinned as a thought occurred to him. "Are you sure that's the only reason?"

Stig's eyebrows shot up and a slow grin spread across his face. "I'm sure I could come up with other reasons."

**Author's Note:**

> "Friha" is the Skandian goddess of love, daughter of the youngest Vallas, and their equivalent to Freya.


End file.
